Pop shares a story about my kind-hearted brother Pete and about his days in New York City during Prohibition.
Springfield College, Springfield, Mass.
Mr. Harold Lufkin, V.P. Feb. 15, 1961
Newton Mfg. Co.
Newton, Iowa.
Dear Mr. Lufkin:
Thanks a lot for enlightening me on the subject of Colfax! I wish that like so many nice things you say about me that I were worthy of them, but the fact is that I have a very poor memory.
I do think though that we are inclined to remember the things that are pleasant and to forget the ones that are not. I suppose if that were not true it would be almost impossible to live in this sordid old World.
I guess, being somewhat of a dreamer myself, that the story appealed to me when I read it. “Pete” (Heaven help him) has quite a bit of “the ole man” in him, in that he is, as you say a good deal of a dreamer, and an idealist. Even when he was very small he always was dragging stray dogs, cats AND humans home. I remember one night when I was reading, and it was rather late, that Pete crept into the pantry and filled a bag full of stuff, not dreaming that anyone was awake in the house. I came out into the kitchen just as he was going out the door and asked him what he was up to. He said, “Dad, it is just as well you don’t know.” I got kind of peeved and said, “What the Hell, I think I am supposed to know, now come on and tell me just what is going on.” He was RIGHT! Some kid had escaped from Reform School and had been living in a cave in Norfolk for a week and was going hungry and had frostbitten toes on both feet, and my son Pete was feeding him but did not dare to bring him home. To make a long story short, he told me that he knew that he was doing wrong, but that he did not want to get me involved as an “accessory” or whatever you call it. Anyway I went down to the Cave with him, brought the kid up to the house and kept him for a couple of days, I then took him over to the Police Barracks and explained that he had no Mother, that his stepmother beat the Hell out of him and that I thought he had some good stuff in him. I advised him to serve out his term and then go into the Navy (my pet service). He did so and got along fine and is now happily married Etc.
You know if I could conform I would be a better salesman, but I often find myself in the Summer especially, stopping side of a Lake, or side of the road looking at a Mountain and just wishing that I was a million miles away, and I have to pinch myself every day to realize that I am married and have five beautiful sons.
I have to conform these days, and a great deal of it is due to my fine wife and to you. Between the two of you, you have enabled me to sort of (as you say) “roll with the punches”, but there are times when I still get very rebellious and don’t see any sense to any of it, so in a way I suppose in spite of my sputtering that I understand my son “Pete” much better than even his mother does.
I got to Heck out of Ellsworth, Maine on the next train after I graduated. My first Hotel was the Mills Hotel in New York, a Hotel for bums. Of course I did not know that. I had about $400 in my pocket at the time, but I had heard stories that as little money as that was spent in one night in New York. I barricaded the door and put the money in my sock, and the next day asked my boss (The Manager of Childs Restaurant at 31 Cortland St in NY if I could get something a little better. He said, “How much money have you got?” and I said, “About $400.” He said, “Hell they can put you up at the Waldorf for that.” Anyway I got to room with a chap and we paid $6 each for a room at 66th and Broadway and had a fine time. It was right next door to the Marie Antoinette Hotel, which was the hangout of Peaches and Daddy Browning at the time. That was in the “Roaring Twenties” and I had my share of the Roaring.
That was the days of the Ziegfield Follies, Geo. Whites Scandals, Al Jolson, Fanny Brice, Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks and what have you. Also the days of the Gangster (In NY the Gas House Gang) the Speakeasy Etc. I will never forget as long as I live while strolling with my roommate around Columbus Circle one night a guy passed me a card. It said Roland W. End, Interior Decorator, Call Susquehanna 5050. I asked my roommate what the heck I would want with an Interior Decorator and he doubled up and liked to laugh himself sick. He said, “Why that is a bootlegger.” ME and my old state of Maine innocence. Sure enough he was! Guaranteed to deliver a quart of Gin anywhere in NY or Brooklyn within ten minutes. He did it too! I tried him out.
On hot nights in the summer, myself and Bill used to sleep in Central Park, with a good suit of clothes on, and money in our pockets. I wonder what would happen to us now? I well remember one St. Patrick’s night when I had a little more than I should have and at that time I roomed in Brooklyn. On the B.M.T. Subway on the way home, some little old Irish lady sat down side of me and said “Sure now and do you think you can find your station?” I said, “Oh sure I am O.K., but she got out of me where I got off to and where I roomed and believe it or not got off with me and saw me into a Taxi and home. I’ll bet she was 80 if she was a day. I would just like to see someone in NY, or for that matter, any place else take that much interest in anyone today.
Well Dave has come back from his studies so I guess I will have to give up his Typewriter. They have a Gymnastic event up here tonight and I was the only one that could come.
He is doing very well, but is a worrier like myself and wonders how I am ever going to get the money for him to finish, but he only has one more year and I will manage that somehow. He is a real nice boy and the ONLY one of the entire Sinclair family that realizes what money is and that means EVERYBODY. If I had any money to leave my family, Dave is the one person that I would choose to administer it. The rest of them don’t know a dollar from a cent.
See you again when I get a typewriter.
Leon.
P.S. Thanks for your kind comments on “Pete” also.
Tags: Pop's Letters
